Basically the crazed musings of a dirty, pissed-off public-sector desk slave, only… he's not as mad as he thinks he is.

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I think I might fancy someone.

She works at the celeb haunt club that I dive into every now and then. One of the promotion managers works with a gorgeous blonde with a great body, about 21. I met her in the bar over the road from said club, and have spotted her in a couple of other places. She told me her name, but typically I can’t remember. I got a kiss on the cheek last time I saw her, so she’s not stone cold.

My initial feelings whenever I meet someone is that she’s probably not interested, so I don’t bother finding out in case I get humiliated. Then I end up humiliating myself through lack of action. I’m going to go in for the kill and ask for her number, or maybe Facebook, or Twitter. Make it a little different. But I’m going to try specifically with her. Could do with finding out what her name is.

I put an event up for Friday, a night out to the celeb haunt, but I only got 1 RSVP and he looked like a weirdo. He backed out at the last minute. AA said he might come, then he changed his mind too. Shit. It’s easier to get people to come out midweek than it is to get them out at the weekend.

Added to this complication, my arse is still utterly pungent. No matter how much I swap food around and try different things, I can’t stop farting. It’s this that makes me nervous about talking to women, not so much learning difficulties or the like. I may need to go to my doctor about this too. I’m getting tired of embarrassing conversations with GPs and other people, but I guess they must continue.